


Heaven is a Place on Earth

by FhimeChan



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Black Mirror Episode: s03e04 San Junipero, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Conversations and manipulations, Courtship, Era Appropriate Fashion, Falling In Love, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Knifeplay, M/M, Morally Grey Will Graham, Murder Husbands, Romance, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-23 16:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20011606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FhimeChan/pseuds/FhimeChan
Summary: Welcome to San Junipero, a virtual paradise where the dead reside and the living long to be.There you can find Will, agent in probation, and Hannibal, the inarrestabile Chesapeake Ripper, the only killer known for allowing all of his victims to pass to San Junipero. Together, they're supposed to catch murderers.But when the afterlife allows daily tours, is killing such a big deal?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by @yourarrogance's [suggestive artwork](https://yourarrogance.tumblr.com/post/186768884069/heaven-is-a-place-on-earth-for-the-hannigram), which came with a lot of interesting ideas about this AU. It was fun to work out a plot together!  
> Many many thanks to Nikolina (@another_lost_1 on Twitter) for her always flawless work as a beta and for her enthusiasm <3

The woman slept on the white hospital bed, white hair flying in four different directions.

Thanks to the morphine, she was loose limbed and peaceful and her face had lost the inevitable grimace given her by arthritis. Even if she was there only because of a minor surgery, the San Junipero system was beside her, as standard procedure required. 

Hannibal stopped at the foot of the bed, taking a moment to memorize the face of the woman who had chased the Ripper for more than a decade. Despite her advanced age, she was still passionate about her job. It had been difficult for Hannibal to arrange things so that she could not refuse to be hospitalized that week.

Hannibal took an empty syringe from his pocket, moved the sheets and gently inserted it in the woman's femoral artery.

He pressed the emergency button before leaving the room. There would not be enough time to save her, but any reasonably skilled doctor would be able to make her pass. 

Hannibal's plan was a long shot, but with a little bit of luck it could work.


	2. Chapter 1

Will had his hand on the door handle and was ready to drive to work when he received the call. A bored sounding voice informed him that Beverly had died from complications of the operation, and that their Ripper investigation would be put on hold for a while. He did not feel anything except for irritation. At first, at least. 

He flopped back on the bed for lack of anything better to do. As he lied down in his empty room, staring at the ceiling, his first impulse was to text Beverly to complain. Then he realized. 

The words of his colleague came back to his mind. “Don't worry, she passed.” 

As if an afterimage wrapped in an artificial reality would be considered life. 

Will missed her. 

The police has been trying to assign Will to San Junipero for years, considering that all the Ripper's victims had survived, but Will had always refused, because he wanted to interpret the evidence, not chase ghosts.

Will turned to the side, glancing to his phone to see if there were any notifications. Beverly had been the only one to text him. 

If he requested to be assigned to San Junipero, he would probably instantly be admitted to the trial period of a fortnight, then he would be able to use his access to go there alone and see Beverly. 

It was in impulsive decision, but it was not like he had anything else to do. 

* * *

Walking the unnaturally white halls of the San Junipero police station, Hannibal was pleased for the lucky turn of the events. Not only had the investigation on the Ripper lost one of the most capable agents, but he was about to meet the other one, as he had hoped. 

Beside him, walked a woman in a severe blue uniform, holding a perfectly arranged clipboard. It was easy to keep things in order in San Junipero. 

"I just want to warn you, Doctor Lecter, the last candidate left the room in tears."

Hannibal smiled. He would have expected nothing less from him. "Thank you for your concern," Hannibal glanced at the nametag, "Mary. I'm sure Mr Graham and I can find an agreement." He dismissed the young woman with a smile and pushed the door. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr Graham."

Will sat facing the opposite wall, a mug of empty coffee beside him on the metallic table. He looked exactly like the pictures on TattleCrime. He looked his age. 

"I wish I could say the same."

In the room there was only the table, two chairs, and the mug. There was a window, but it was too close to another building to show anything but concrete. Remarkably ugly, for a city built on the shore. 

Hannibal rounded the table and pulled out the unoccupied chair, ignored by Will. "You may. Sincerity isn't a requirement for a polite conversation."

Will looked up, startled. His eyes were blue, but there was a green edge that was lost in the low quality pictures Hannibal has seen. They quickly took in Hannibal's, darting from one side of his face to the other, probably looking for the telltale signs of an emotion. He blinked, and said. "And yet you're using sincerity as a statement."

Hannibal had not changed his appearance. It seemed a safe bet considering what he had heard of the profiler. Now he was delighted that he had acted this way. 

He sat in front of Will, crossing his hands over the table, and asked. "Am I?”

"You're wearing a three piece suit, so you care about your appearance. If you look fifty, it's because you want to, not because you don't care enough to make an effort.” Again, Will's eyes moved to his face, searching. “You're trying to gain my trust."

Hannibal nodded minutely, acknowledging a worthy opponent. Will had already seen more than his so-called friends. "Guilty, I admit. But I'm not the only one to look exactly as I want too." He looked pointedly at Will's flannel shirt and unkempt hair, not without amusement. “You bothered to summon some coffee, but not an ironed shirt. You're scaring away your future partners."

Will glared at Hannibal over his glasses. "It doesn't seem to work."

"I'm afraid you'll need to try harder. I find your honesty refreshing."

Will raised an eyebrow, even if his lips twitched. "Sure."

"Will, the decision is yours. The requirements to profile the killers in San Junipero include being partnered with a psychiatrist. While exceptions are not unheard of, I don't think they'd let it slide in your case." 

Will grimaced at the reminder, fidgeting with his mug. He paused, searching Hannibal’s face again. "Why do you want to work with me, Doctor Lecter?" 

"The same reason as anyone else, I'm afraid. Your mind is fascinating." 

"Aren't you afraid I'll empathize too much with the killers I'm catching and try to kill you?" 

Hannibal crossed his legs, by all means poised. “I've read your file. You have a successful career as a profiler, regardless of what the tabloids may insinuate.” Will looked amused at his calm rebuttal, even if just slightly and if he covered it quickly. “Besides, we're only meeting in San Junipero." 

Will half smiled. "I'm told that being killed here is still a traumatic experience. As a psychiatrist, you would know."

Hannibal returned the smile, knowing it was a victory. "I'm confident in my ability to manage the situation."

"To manage me, you mean." Will sat back, relaxing his shoulders. "At least you're not sugar coating it. Let's give it a try."

* * *

The room had white walls and not a single piece of furniture apart from a big closet and a mirror. While the agents were given access to San Junipero, they were not encouraged to take liberties at work.

Will dressed quickly, throwing on a plain blue shirt, a denim jacket and oversized jeans. Faded enough to blend in, baggy enough to be comfortable, even if he missed the flannel. Not that any of that was real. 

For once Will was grateful he looked younger than his age, because during the night he could easily pass for someone in his twenties, like everyone else in there, even without making the effort to change his age. He wondered if Beverly would appear younger. Maybe. Probably. If he ran into her by chance, would he recognize her? Not that there was a high chance, considering the number of people living in San Junipero. 

Will glanced at himself in the mirror. He did not see anything that stood out. Good.

Outside it was dark, but the night was warm and carried the scent of the sea. Hannibal was waiting for him under a streetlamp, dressed in a white baggy suit. As he moved closer, Will noticed that the fabric had subtle white stripes that caught the yellow light. To Will's surprise, he looked ten years younger. Still not remotely close to twenty though.

"Good evening, Will."

Will grunted a greeting. Hannibal had left the first two buttons of his shirt open, and Will was more drawn to the exposed skin than he wanted to admit. 

They started to walk along the dimly lit street, Will trusting Hannibal to guide them both to the right place. There was not a single sign, but the buildings looked worn, familiar. It was the sort of town where you did not need to know exactly which street you were in, just how far the closest nightclub was. Normally, at least.

Hannibal asked, "Who are we visiting this evening?"

Will did not even bother to look at him. "You already know it."

"Standard procedure, I'm afraid. Don't forget this is a test to gauge your emotional response in dealing with the citizens of San Junipero." 

“You mean the dead.” Will sighed. "We're going to talk with Jill, who was found almost disemboweled but still alive enough to pass a few days ago, and we're going to ask her who killed her." 

A car with loud music guided by a screaming group of teenagers passed by. Will tried not to recoil too visibly. He muttered, "Just give me the killers."

He felt Hannibal’s eyes on his face. "This is designed to make it easier."

Knowing he would be evaluated for his answer, Will chose carefully his next words. He wanted the job. “I'd rather interrogate the perpetrators of a crime than be faced with the life they ruined."

Hannibal’s tone did not betray reaction to Will's words. "Someone would say they're lucky to be here, forever young."

"Forever stuck."

There was a beat of silence, and Will wondered if he had already ruined his chances of working there. Hannibal stopped under a cone of light and looked at him, forcing eye contact. "Why are you here, Will?"

They had asked him that question countless times since he had applied. Will answered automatically. "I want to bring to justice the murderers who may otherwise never be caught."

"No, it isn't true."

Will realized that Hannibal was difficult to read, even for him. The golden light, designed to give a romantic glow rather than actual illumination, did not help. In the following silence, Will studied his expression, but could not recognize any emotions. After a long moment, Hannibal stepped forward, and they walked in silence. 

The club they were looking for was in the middle of the town and, judging from the noise, already packed with people. Hannibal opened the door for him, and Will was hit by smoke and flashing neon lights.

Will took a deep breath and dived in.

* * *

Hannibal hid a smile as he followed Will inside. The nightclub was big enough not to feel crowded, with a high ceiling and acceptable illumination, but in spite of that Will was carrying himself tensely, hunched in his oversized clothes, just shy of hugging himself for comfort. With his curls partially hiding his eyes and his nervous movements, he was a lovely sight. 

Will was right, of course. This was not designed to be easy. They could have met the woman in the park during the day, but the agents needed to be tested in stressful situations before being given access to San Junipero. 

Hannibal almost slipped and smiled again thinking about how Will had declared that he would prefer the killers to the victims. It had been endearing how Will had tried his best to give Hannibal the polite uninteresting answers, not aware that the distaste in his eyes had given away his lies. Hannibal could not wait to uncover Will’s real thoughts, but for that he needed to gain Will's trust first.

Will spotted the bar easily, since there was a violet neon sign under which an impressive collection of bottles was exposed. Hannibal smiled briefly in approval as he followed Will. The woman, Jill, was sitting just under the purple light chatting with the bartender.

She looked beautiful, of course, throwing her head back to laugh, with a flashy ribbon in her hair and an striped blouse wrapped loosely around her waist. Will waited a few seconds before catching her attention, hovering just behind her back. He closed his eyes, expressions too quick to follow in spite of Hannibal’s focus. His whole demeanor changed, finally relaxing and not trying to shy away from any possible physical contact. Hannibal wondered if Will would react at his touch at all in his trance-like state. 

Then, no more than a few seconds later, it stopped. Will opened his eyes, slouched his shoulders and reached out to catch Jill's attention with a hand on her arm. 

The woman turned and smiled flirtatiously before remembering that she had an appointment with the police. Hannibal could not blame her, with the neon lights creating a halo over his curls Will looked stunning, and so very different from his stolen pictures on TattleCrime. 

Pity he was almost glaring. "Madam, let's try to keep this short. What do you remember?"

Slightly confused by Will's hostile behavior, the woman started to talk, but it was soon clear that she did not know anything useful. As Will went through the usual list of questions, taking care not to miss a single one, she grew increasingly bored. Will, for his part, was doing a good job in hiding his discomfort, but a certain stiffness remained to his posture. 

While Will's attention was on the woman, Hannibal stepped sideways, towards another person sitting at the bar, and bumped lightly against him. 

Sometimes the tabloids said that the Ripper had the devil's luck. While Hannibal would not deny that usually the circumstances favoured him, it was also true that nothing happened without a conscious input from his part. 

The man glanced up at them and caught few words of Will and Jill's exchange. "Hey, are you a cop or something?"

His voice was slurred hy many drinks, enough that he probably would not have any memories from the evening, but Will was at his first evaluation and needed to follow the protocol. Deny everything, walk away. The fact that there were policemen in San Junipero had to remain a secret. 

Hannibal took his chance. 

He laid a hand on Will's arm, and with a smile towards the stranger, he said, "I'm sorry, but he's taken.” He squeezed possessively, leaning closer to cover Will's startled expression. He leaned forward, close enough that some of Will's curls touched his cheek. "Shall we dance?"

* * *

Will had not expected the breach of his personal space, so he froze when Hannibal forced his body between the stranger and him. He had been caught too off-center to react when Hannibal pulled on his arm, taking his hand and guiding him to the dancefloor. His mind, which was oscillating between outrage and surprise, flooded him with information. How Hannibal's fingers were nimble, but unexpectedly strong. How he moved through the crowd with grace, avoiding any collision. How he seemed unperturbed by the noise. 

They reached the center of the dancefloor, right underneath a huge disco ball. Before Hannibal let go of his hand, Will held it and muttered, “I can't dance.” 

The meddler was still looking at him over his shoulder. Hannibal moved his hands along Will's arms, stroking them twice, soothing, before placing them on his flanks. “Follow my lead.”

Will was surprised to discover that having Hannibal that close did not register as unpleasant. He was pushy, sure, but he was also comforting in the way in which he towered over Will, cutting away the rest of the world.

Hannibal started to move, and Will mindlessly let the beat wash over his body, copying Hannibal’s movements step by step. The music brought them close, apart, and close again, until Hannibal talked directly into Will's ear. Will, in his floating state, shivered at Hannibal’s low tone before even recognizing the words.

“Was it that difficult to be compassionate?”

Will jerked back, bumped into a woman and stumbled forward into Hannibal’s arms. Hannibal caught him by the waist, keeping him close with an arm on Will's back. 

Hannibal said, “Don't worry, you passed your test. I'll approve your application.”

Will looked up, startled. Hannibal was not supposed to tell him until the end of the two weeks. There was something dark in Hannibal’s eyes that Will was not ready to acknowledge. He pointed out the more superficial layer. “You want to work with me.” 

The song stopped, but Hannibal did not release him. Will did not know where to put his arms, so he mirrored Hannibal’s posture, experimentally resting them at Hannibal’s sides, under the jacket. The fabric was surprisingly soft. “Of course. You're a gifted profiler.”

True, Will could see it was true, but there was also so much else. 

“No, this is personal.” 

An upbeat, silly song started to play, and Hannibal grimaced. He disentangled himself from Will and gestured towards the back exit. Will snorted and followed him, ignoring how keenly he was feeling the absence of touch. To distract himself, he glanced at the bar, and saw that the man who had interrupted them was now chatting with Jill. Good. 

The door closed behind them, cutting away most of the noise. Will breathed the night air with relief and let his arms dangle freely. His eyes took a moment to adjust from the flashing lights to the soft glow of the street. Since it was the back entrance, nobody was around. 

“Did you discover anything useful?”

Hannibal was between Will and the street lamp, so Will could not see his expression, but the tone of voice was warm.

“She was found with a concussion on the back of her head. Of course I didn't find anything.” 

“I'm sure you saw something at the very beginning.” 

Will stared at the black form that was Hannibal's face. He had tried to be subtle and quick, and so far nobody had caught him using his empathy if he had not wanted to. He was at once annoyed at Hannibal’s insight and weirdly pleased at being the object of his attention. Maybe for once collaborating could be a good idea. Maybe a partner who was able to keep up could even help him.

Will leaned against the wall of the building. “All I could feel from her murderer was irrational anger. He was working on instinct. On the scene there must be an abundance of DNA traces and tracks.”

“He?”

Will blinked. “Yes, he. The police assumed he was using some sort of automatic weapon, but I think he kills bare handed.” 

Hannibal braced his arm on the wall and leaned towards Will. Technically he was not closer than few minutes before, but in the deserted street his proximity felt more intense. 

Hannibal said. “And you understood all of this at first glance.” This statement was usually fired at Will with incredulity, but Hannibal’s tone was awed.

Will moved sideways, detaching from the wall and retracting from Hannibal, so that he could see his expression. “Almost all of the victims who now live in San Junipero were transferred in a rush, so part of the situation they were in at that moment cling to them.” Hannibal's eyes were fixed on him, and yes, there was admiration. Will gulped and looked away. “It may be an incongruously strained tendon, or a bruise, or they may be curling around a wound that doesn't exist anymore. I simply analyze that.”

A hand on Will's cheek startled him and prompted him to look at Hannibal. He adjusted a lock of hair behind Will's ear. “Remarkable.” 

An annoying wave of relief washed over Will. He turned on his heels and left, muttering a goodbye. Walking away, he picked at his hair, dislodging the lock. 

* * *

The phone rang. 

“Archeological museum. How can I help you?”

“Randall, it’s Doctor Hannibal Lecter. How are you doing?”

A pause. “I'm well, thank you. Why are you calling me, Doctor?”

“I have a request, but I'd rather discuss it in person. Are you available next week?”


	3. Chapter 2

Two days later Will was called to San Junipero again. He materialized in the usual empty room and did not bother to change his clothes before walking out of the door. He had an appointment in front of the building. 

He walked outside into a perfect clear morning. He had not expected Doctor Lecter to be there, but in retrospect he had been a fool to think Hannibal would leave him be. Hannibal was in a golden three piece suit with a red handkerchief and a black tie, looking way more chipper than he was allowed so early in the day. 

“Good morning, Will.” 

Will stared at him, on the verge of glaring, until Hannibal gave him an explanation. “Since we're going to work together, I thought it would be better if we got to know each other.”

“I'm meant to be shown around San Junipero.”

Hannibal had a disarming smile. “Yes. I'll be your guide.” 

Hannibal made a wide gesture with his arm, suggesting that Will walked by his side. Will arched an eyebrow, but followed. After all, he would rather talk with Hannibal than with another officer. 

In the light of the day, the police building was unmarked and nothing indicated that it was more than a common palace. Will’s attention returned to Hannibal as he pointed at another building in front of them, defining it as a ‘residential block’. 

Will asked, “How do you know San Junipero so well?”

Hannibal turned at him with an embarrassed grin. Will could see it was feigned. “I must confess, I have private access.” 

Will blinked. “Of course you do.” He mentally started to calculate how much money that would cost, then gave up. He looked again at Hannibal’s eyes, which were twinkling with amusement. He concentrated. There was also something else in there. “Is this your way of telling me you're a desirable bachelor?”

That took a genuine laugh out of Hannibal. “As if you'd be so easily swayed.”

Will snorted. “Glad that's clear.”

After that, the atmosphere between them became lighter, and Will discovered he was enjoying the tour. Halfway through the morning, almost nobody around, Will could hear the seagulls and smell the sea. Finally, he could see why people liked San Junipero. 

“Do you know how large the sea is here?”

Hannibal paused. “I know some people like to sail and to spend the whole day on a boat, but I admit it never occurred to me to ask how far away it would be possible to go.”

“You'd rather live between other people than seek solitude.” 

Hannibal inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I'm afraid you're right again. While I find the inescapability of nature inspiring, I seek eternity in humanity.”

“A rather contradictory statement.” 

“Not at all. As you know very well, the conflict between nature and rationality doesn’t have a better battlefield than the human mind. We’re programmed to survive, yet this instinct is split into two different paths: fight and solidarity. While the common opinion is that only the first one is instinctual, both of them are an inheritance from the animal kingdom.” They were passing the pub from the previous night. Maybe it was the memory of dancing together that seeped through, but suddenly Hannibal’s next words felt much more intimate. “It’s fascinating to see how those conflicting necessities play in an individual…” He trailed off, before looking at Will with an apologetic smile. “But I’m talking too much.”

Will studied Hannibal. “I thought we were over token apologies.” Hannibal’s smile widened into a grin. After a moment, Will added. “Solidarity requires an intellectual effort, contrary to fighting.”

Hannibal nodded minutely, acknowledging Will's words. “I disagree. While there is undoubtedly an instinctual component in fighting, clarity of thoughts is quintessential to prevail on a stronger opponents.”

They had stopped in the middle of the road; Will had been so absorbed in the discussion that he had not even noticed there were more people around, since it was almost midday. He started to walk again, returning his attention to Hannibal, a little bit disappointed that their time together was almost over. “Following your reasoning, a premeditated murder would be more… elegant than an impulsive one.”

Hannibal’s eyes had small red grains in them, which shone with enthusiasm. “It’s arguably more human. Empathy, after all, can show us our opponents’ weaknesses, as you must be very aware,” he challenged. 

A group of young girls were walking down the street in their direction. Will moved out of their path, brushing Hannibal’s shoulder. Just like two days before, it was not unpleasant. 

It was the first time that Will did not feel annoyed discussing his empathy. Hannibal’s attention was flattering, in a way. Probably because he seemed genuinely interested in Will and not only in catching an interesting patient. “What I perceive are the residual emotions behind every action, from which I can reconstruct the thoughts patterns.” Carried by the conversation, Will moved closer to Hannibal again. “We can say that my reconstructions are instinctual.”

“Cutting through to the individual's core.” Hannibal lowered his tone. “Have you ever wondered how it would feel to reconstruct an impersonal, meticulously planned crime?”   
Will raised an eyebrow. “No crime is impersonal, Hannibal.”

“Not even the Ripper’s?“ There was a glint of something in Hannibal’s eyes, but it was gone before Will could react to it. 

“Least of all the Ripper’s crime scenes.” Hannibal's eyes widened in surprise, the most intense display of emotions he had shown so far. “He is a meticulous planner, as we all know. His crimes scream his love for the art and his desire to achieve perfection out of chaos.”

To Will's disappointment, they had come back to the police headquarter, which meant it was time to go back. 

“I defer to your expertise.” Hannibal paused. “Would it be very forward of me to treat you to a meal, tomorrow? I’d like to continue this conversation in a more informal setting.”

“It would.” Despite the affectation, Hannibal seemed genuinely hopeful and a little bit uncertain. Will sighed. “Alright.” 

* * *

When he walked to the connection center for his appointment with Hannibal, Will had expected the same empty room that had been his entrance before. 

Instead he arrived in a suite furnished with plush couches, a minibar and even artwork on the walls, which he most definitely did not pay for. He doubted the police had, either. Worried, he hurried out of the engraved door without even bothering to change his flannel shirt and loose pants, only to almost bump into someone. 

The other person was wearing a livery with the same creamy pattern of the tapestry as the suite. An employee. He recovered first, saying. “Mr. Graham, if you would follow me.” 

Not a mistake, then. Partially relieved but still puzzled, Will was lead inside an increasingly complicated system of opulent corridors and finally left alone in front of a door. There was a golden plaque with ‘Lecter’ written on it. Will side-eyed it and knocked. 

Hannibal answered him in a white apron and rolled up sleeves. He was surprisingly lean without the suit jacket. Will stared at his arms, swallowing. Veins and tendons were visible just under the skin. Hannibal smiled at him, softer than usual, with his fringe falling over his eyes. “Will. Please come in.”

Hannibal remained close to the doorframe, so that Will had to almost touch him to enter. Will stepped in as if the house was a war zone. “I was expecting a café at the police station.” 

Hannibal touched his jacket, and Will had to decide if he wanted to be helped out of it or to stubbornly cling to it. He begrudgingly let go, suppressing a shiver when Hannibal’s hands smoothed a wrinkle on his back. 

Hannibal hung it in a small alcove close to the door. “Considering your aversion to crowded places, I assumed my kitchen would be a better suited place.”

Will turned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You paid for me.” 

Hannibal’s eyes twinkled. “I was the one inviting you.” He turned and walked inside, giving Will no choice but to follow him along the corridor. There were antlers everywhere, on the walls, on small tables as decorations, on top of actual statues. The part of Will’s mind which was not flustered was trying not to laugh. Apparently Hannibal’s questionable fashion choices extended to his furniture. 

Will’s attention came back to Hannibal in the kitchen. The room was as big as Will's entire house and had a central metallic counter where Hannibal was prepping… Something. Something complicated which included three types of cream. Will was not even sure he could name all the tools.

He scratched his neck, eyes fixated on what he was reasonably sure was a whisker. “I assumed this was for work. I didn't understand you planned to eat cake.” 

Hannibal stepped behind the counter, resuming his preparations. “While getting to know each other may be beneficial for our mutual relationship and reflect positively on our work, rest assured that today was meant to be at service of our mutual pleasure.”

It was the way in which Hannibal’s lips rolled around the word ‘pleasure’ that gave Will a burst of clarity. It also fried some neutrons, probably. 

“You were asking me out for a date.”

Will dragged himself over the closest stool before his legs gave out. He took out his glasses and started to clean them on his shirt, thinking quickly. A date? And he had accepted. 

Hannibal added some powder to a bowl, then set it down. “Will, please relax.” He extended his hand over the counter to touch Will's shoulder. It was actually soothing. Will put his glasses back. “I often invite my friends into my kitchen.” 

After a soft squeeze, Hannibal turned to get the plates. He did something complicated with a pocket of cream and started to draw cream flowers. He was clearly showing off. It was also clearly working. 

"Yes.” Will grabbed a bowl from the counter, trying to focus on it. He set it down when it did not work. “But in my case it  _ is _ a date.”

Hannibal took something red and spongy out of the fridge. Keeping his voice neutral, he said, “I hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable.” 

Will snorted in disbelief, then started laughing as he realized that it actually did  _ not _ bother him. In fact, Hannibal’s self assurance was almost endearing. “As long as you don’t expect me to do small talk,” he answered, sounding way more flirty than he had intended. 

Hannibal glanced up with a smile in his eyes. “I’ll endeavour not to say anything predictable in your presence.”

“I have no doubt.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, both smiling. 

Hannibal blinked slowly, breaking the moment. “Actually, I invited another guest.” At Will's horrified gaze, he added. “I didn't want to presume.”

Will grimaced. Well, that was what he got for relaxing. He swallowed a couple of times, trying not to sound too unsettled when he said. “Are they another psychiatrist? Because I may just leave.”

“Not at all.” On the counter there were now three delicate edible flowers in three different plates, which Will would have noticed before if he had not been so unsettled. “I think you'd find our guest to be a delightful surprise.”    
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. 

* * *

It was delightful to play that game with Will. While usually Hannibal liked to challenge his guests and see them unbalanced, not one of them had come close to the marvel that was Will Graham. 

Prone to blushing, wearing his emotions on the surface, yet prickly and difficult to win over, and delightfully difficult to stun into silence. Hannibal had discovered he really liked to have him in his kitchen. It had been difficult to retract his hand from him, not to trace the muscles of his shoulders, the shape of his neck. 

Hannibal could not wait to extract more reactions out of him. 

* * *

Will, not really knowing the etiquette in cases like these, accompanied Hannibal to the door. The person who was on the other side came as a complete shock.

Beverly gave him her open bright smile, that Will had so missed, then stepped forwards and hugged him. 

“Will!” She leaned back, studying his face. “I've been waiting ages to do this!”

"Be-" Will swallowed. "Beverly." He blinked. The person in front of him did not disappear. "I didn't know you- you were coming."

"Oh, Will." She hugged him again. She smelled like she had in real life. "I had wanted so badly to meet you here, where I can see your pretty face properly." She put her hands on her flanks, the same gesture she did in real life, even if way quicker. "Even if you look the same! Shame on you, Graham!"

Will did not know what to answer. He had expected a faded copy of Beverly, like an out of focus picture, surely a tamer version. He had not expected her to be, well, exactly the same.

Except for she was whole lot younger. 

He rubbed his eyes, forcing away the lump in his throat. Beverly would never let him alone if he cried now. "You didn't change."

Beverly softened, leaving his arms fall. "I did. I'm fifty years younger and I can actually see. And walk." She winked, theatrically strolling inside, passing beside Hannibal. Will had forgotten he was there. "You have no idea how great it is to actually move without pain."

Will nodded and tentatively smiled. 

* * *

Will let himself be led into the dining room, not even registering Hannibal's hand on his back. Hannibal briefly considered not to sever the touch. If he kept physical contact, Will would get used to it. On the other hand, it was more interesting to obtain a reaction every time. 

Hannibal went to collect the plates, leaving a weirdly openly happy Will behind him.

In the kitchen Hannibal realized he was grinning. He tried to school his features but he was not able to, so in the end he resigned himself to looking like a fool. 

* * *

Will was distantly aware that there were skulls as centerpieces and that whatever was on his plate tasted amazing, but he just could not focus on that. Beverly ate it with enthusiasm. 

“You have no idea how great it is to be able to eat everything again.” She grinned around another bite. “No more drug interferences, and a muted pain switch. It's amazing.” She put down the fork. “I can't wait to give you the pub tour, once your probation is over. I'll drink you under the table, Graham.”

Will laughed. “I don't think the police will let me do that in my time here.”

Something touched his hand and Will gripped it reflexively, only to realize it was Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal said, “You're welcome to use my guest access any time, of course.” 

Hannibal's palm was soft and Will's defenses had still to recover. He shrugged. “Alright then.”

Beverly grinned at their joined hands. “Glad someone gave you access to heaven, Will.”

* * *

When Beverly left, Will's smile did not go away, but changed in quality. It became more sober, intimate.

Will said, "That was mean."

How delightfully incongruous was Will Graham, saying that with such fondness. "You seemed quite happy."

Will rolled his eyes. "That doesn't mean it wasn't, at heart, mean."

"I should try to be more courteous the next time."

Will side-eyed him, but did not deny that he would accept Hannibal's invitation again. All according to plan. The small thrill of pleasure in Hannibal's stomach was a bonus.    



	4. Chapter 3

Will had a problem. His next appointment with Hannibal was in a place called Quagmire, on Wednesday. It was Monday and he wanted to see him. 

Hannibal's offer to use his access came back to his mind, but, alone in his room, no more stunned by Beverly's presence, that felt too much of an imposition. After much pondering, he called the police station to ask for Hannibal's phone number. He was given a house number. Of course, no mobiles for Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Will chuckled. 

He dialed it without thinking too much, only to double guess himself as it rang. What was he doing? Hannibal had invited him in San Junipero, known for his fleeting encounters, he would not necessarily want to extend their relationship, or whatever that was, in the real world. 

A bit panicked, Will was about to close the call when Hannibal answered. 

"Doctor Lecter."

"Hi, uh, this is Will." Will closed his eyes. Eloquent.

"Will." Hannibal's tone immediately became warmer. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

“I…” Wanted to talk to you. “Seeing Beverly had made me reconsider my system of beliefs.” 

Will held his breath, waiting for Hannibal to close the call quickly. 

“Understandable.” Hannibal seemed to genuinely meant it. “I'm afraid you found me in an unfortunate week, so I can't schedule an appointment before our visit to Quagmire.”

Will exhaled. That was it, then. At least the rejection was phrased very politely, not that it actually made it better. 

Hannibal added, “I know it's not ideal, but we can discuss it now, if you're willing.”

Will blinked a couple of times. Oh. He grinned to the empty room, feeling like a fool but not caring. “Thank you. I don't really know how to start.”

Hannibal's reply had a hint of amusement. “Let's do a grounding exercise first. Please describe your surrounding.”

“I'm inside my house, sitting on the floor.” That sounded personal. Will's heart beated faster as he added. “A disassembled boat motor is on the carpet beside me.”

Usually, people found that weird. Hannibal did not comment, he just asked, “Are you comfortable?”

Will put his phone on speaker and stretched his arms above his head. “Yes.”

“Good.” Will should not feel so happy at Hannibal’s approval, but he was. “I am in my kitchen. Can you picture it?”

Will wanted to ask if he was still wearing that apron, but that felt like crossing a line. Instead he asked, “Does it look like the one in San Junipero?”

“Yes, although I covered the marble of the floor with a protective layer.”

Will chucked. “Not as above mistakes as you'd like to, Doctor.” 

“I'm afraid not.” A pause. “Do you know where to start, now?”

It was actually easier to talk to Hannibal now that he had some context. Will closed his eyes and imagined he was in his kitchen with him, sitting on the stool like the previous time. 

“I've always though San Junipero was some pale imitation of life. I reconsidered.” 

“How we see death shapes our ethic. Discovering that the line between life and death is more blurred than we expected can understandably be unsettling.”

“Removing death, I wonder if any ethic is applicable at all.”

There was a low rhythmic noise, so Will imagined Hannibal was chopping herbs. Hannibal stopped, looking up at him, and asked, “What would be the most unforgivable act we could do to another being, removing death?”

Will scratched his neck. “Pain, I guess. But that's a medical problem. Not to mention some sort of pain can be good.” The chopping had not resumed. Will imagined looking straight into Hannibal’s red eyes. “What's your answer, Hannibal?”

There was a thud on the other side of the line. Will imagined Hannibal had poured the herbs into a bowl. “While I'm ready to share my thoughts, I'd rather you think about it for few days before doing it.”

“No cheating?”

Hannibal’s tone carried his smile and a surprisingly amount of warmth. “Maybe next time.”

Will wanted to continue this conversation, but he did not want to waste more of Hannibal’s time. 

“I'll keep you on your word.” Feeling daring, he added, “Goodnight, Hannibal.”

He blushed when Hannibal answered in a low, fond tone. “Goodnight, Will.” 

* * *

Their next official appointment was during the afternoon, which meant that there were not many people around. Hannibal had briefly entertained the possibility to schedule it in the evening to push Will’s composure, but had decided against it. This time, he wanted to watch Will’s reaction clearly, without the shield provided by the presence of strangers. 

In addition, he wanted to continue their conversation. Hannibal had not expected Will to be that open to his suggestions, and he was curious to see where their next exchange would push him. 

Will walked out of the empty room and bumped into Hannibal, who was waiting for him in the hall. Hannibal steadied him with a hand on his arm, admiring how the faded Ramones t-shirt uncovered most of Will’s neck. 

Will looked up, ready to fight, but changed expression as he saw Hannibal, who could not help but smile in answer. 

Will untangled himself from the loose lapels of Hannibal’s striped baggy suit. “Are you allergic to denim, or something? You must overheat in that jacket.”

Hannibal clasped his hands in front of him to cover the sudden desire to hold onto him. With a touch of humor, he said, “As you remarked once, I like to appear exactly as I chose.”

Will scratched his neck, flashing his shoulder. Hannibal wanted to bite it. “Look, I can go and change if…”

Allowing himself a small indulgence, Hannibal smoothed Will’s denim waistcoat over his chest, feeling his sharp inhale of breath under his hands. “Feeling at ease is equally important.” Reluctantly letting go, he asked, “Shall we?”

Will ducked his head in agreement, walking forward along the empty hall to try and hide his blush. Hannibal fell into step beside him. 

“Where are we going this evening?”

Will sighed, resigned to the drill. “We’re going to Quagmire. Considering how the name is always whispered in my presence, I guess it’s the kinkier nightclub in town. We’re going to ask John some questions about his recent death.”

Hannibal turned to him with a small smile. “Your deduction is correct. Usually the agents are only allowed there after they have passed their probation, but I asked to make an exception, in order to give you a complete picture of San Junipero.”

“I’m honored.” Will aimed for sarcastic, but it came out without heat. 

The rest of their walk was short and silent. Will led the way into the building with surety, not expecting anyone to be there at such an early hour. He stopped few steps into the room and his eyes widened. 

There was only a single huge room, divided into smaller spaces by columns, mirrors and booths made of metallic bars. Will’s eyes darted between the men chained with manacles to the walls, to the ones hanging from the ceiling and to the central cage, currently empty. 

Will turned at Hannibal, frowning with sudden uncertainty. “Why are they here?”

When Hannibal did not reply, he took a deep breath before focusing on the closest man and closing his eyes. Hannibal watched with fascination as Will’s whole demeanor changed. No more hunched shoulders and tentative steps, but a self assured posture, attentive and ready to react. Dangerous. Hannibal smiled. 

Few seconds later, Will shivered and opened his eyes, turning back to his usual self. His voice trembled as he looked at Hannibal. “They’re all killers.”

Hannibal kept an impassive expression, not showing his admiration for Will’s speed. “Yes. Even if the night crowd doesn't know it, Quagmire is used as a prison.”

Will’s eyes darted around, evaluating all the presents again. Some of them were dozing off, muscles lax in their restraints, but their sleep was fitful. Will gripped his waistcoat, tending it almost to a breaking point. “Are they allowed to move?”

Hannibal repressed an inappropriate smile. Exactly the question he had hoped for. “Only in case of emergency. Since in San Junipero it isn’t necessary to eat, or sleep, or move, they can remain perfectly healthy without endangering the visitors.”

Will flinched. “That’s, that’s…” He took half a step towards the closest killer, doing an aborted movement towards the manacles, before stopping and looking at Hannibal, eyes opened wide. “ _ Why _ ?”

Hannibal wanted to witness the full force of Will’s emotions, so he kept his tone of voice flat, not providing the condemnation Will seeked. “As you know, while it is difficult to save the victim of a murder and to have them pass in time, it is easy, when the murderer is convicted, to transfer them to San Junipero.” 

Will raised his hands, then let it fall on his sides. “But  _ why? _ With so many people requesting to live here, why the killers?” There was a touch of hysteria in his voice, which Hannibal memorized and saved for later.

He could not help but to step closer to Will, enough to smell his anxiety. “Often the purpose is to study them. Imagine if we could now interview Jack the Ripper, years after his death.” Will grimaced, clearly disagreeing with the reasoning, but wanting to hear the rest nevertheless. “Considering how psychology has progressed, we would be able to understand much more of him.” At Will’s horrified expression, he added the normal explanation, knowing it was inadequate but wanting to push Will more, “Most of them would have been sentenced with the capital punishment.”

Will frowned, indignant, and muttered. “That may have been preferable.” He glanced around again, as if looking for something that he could do. “Standing here, waiting to be used, never able to do anything, for all eternity.” He turned, closing his eyes briefly, probably trying to slow down to think, before opening them wide again. “This is Hell.”

Hannibal took care not to smile. “This is what our government had decided. After all, they are only dead criminals.”

Will stopped in his tracks. There was nothing he could do. He shook his head. “I need to get out of here.” 

Hannibal stepped forward, gently taking hold of his arm. He was pleased when Will, even if off center, did not refuse his touch. Will looked at him, startled, before remembering Hannibal’s role. 

Hannibal squeezed him soothingly. “Of course.”

He led Will back towards the entrance and inside a small sideroom, which had a number of small cushioned sofas. Smoke clung to the furniture in a not completely unpleasant way. Will threw himself over the sofa, hiding his face between his hands. 

Without looking up, he said, “You didn’t tell me on purpose. You wanted to see my reaction.”

Hannibal did not try to deny nor hide his delight in being so quickly exposed. Instead, he sat beside Will. “An additional advantage of keeping them in here is that there’s always someone to show to attract more customers.”

Will gripped the sofa so hard his knuckles became white. He seemed about to jump up and to throw something. He forced out, between clenched teeth, “How is that safe?”

Hannibal studied the raised tendons on Will’s neck, torn between the desire to soothe and to make it worse. Like that, Will was beautiful. He met his eyes before saying, “Because their pain switch is turned on.” Following the red trace of anger on Will’s cheek, he added, “If they try to rebel, they’ll be in pain.”

Will exhaled, breathless. “This is a nightmare.”

“Maybe. Some would argue it’s a small price to achieve eternal life.”

“You don’t believe this bullshit.” Will stared at him accusingly. The blue of his eyes was shining with anger. “You’re trying to get a reaction out of me.”

“I won’t deny it.” Hannibal could not help a smile, even if Will glared in answer. “But I also wanted to provide you with enough information to reach the answer you seeked.”

Will looked at him for a long moment. Not being able to predict his reaction was thrilling. Hannibal was expecting some sort of physical confrontation, instead Will’s tone was almost calm. “We need to talk with one of them, right? Let’s get over with it.”

They walked back into the other room and Hannibal led the way towards a corner where a prisoner was chained to the floor. Will's face and posture remained carefully blank as he asked the required questions to him. He did not speak to Hannibal again, except for a curt, “Goodbye,” before closing his connection. 

It bothered Hannibal more than he expected.

* * *

The phone rang. It was with a certain trepidation that Hannibal waited for an answer. He was not sure Will would pick it up. 

“Graham”

The tone sounded formal, as if Will had not looked at the screen before answering. "Will. I wanted to apologize for my ambush at Quagmire."

The tone was distinctly more personal when Will answered again. "Cut the bullshit, you aren't sorry."

Hannibal smiled. Being read that easily was intoxicating. He continued in a softer tone.

"While I don't regret the act, I'm genuinely sorry about the consequences.” He waited for an objection, but apparently this time his apology had been deemed sincere. “I would like to make it up to you."

There was a longer silence of the other side of the phone, even if Hannibal could still hear Will’s breathing. He imagines Will was worrying his flannel shirt again. It was a surprisingly charming image.

There was a hint of amusement when Will finally spoke. "Considering our interactions so far, I'm not sure you'd be capable of not pushing me."

Hannibal did not reply, not knowing if Will meant that as a refusal or not. Maybe he had misstepped, after all.

Will sighed. "Alright, I guess at least I know what to expect."

* * *

Will threw on a nice shirt when he came to visit Hannibal. While he was not completely comfortable in letting Hannibal pay for his visit, he had thought that Hannibal deserved some sort of reckoning, and spending his money sounded appropriate.

In spite of everything, Will smiled when Hannibal opened the door of his suite in San Junipero. As the last time, Hannibal was wearing a white shirt that enhanced his shoulders.

"Hi." Will walked in, only to be stopped by Hannibal, who again took the jacket off. Will sighed, mentally admitting he enjoyed that. "Any other guests today?"

Hannibal’s smile was all in his eyes. "Only you, I'm afraid."

They walked into the kitchen. Will had to admit that, antlers aside, the dark wood of the hall was relaxing. More importantly, there were only two plates on the counter.

"Before going any further, I have to confess something." Will looked at Hannibal, who seemed intrigued. Not alarmed, he was too self assured for that. What a ridiculous man. "While I don't like how you planned our visit to Quagmire for shock value, I appreciate the sentiment behind it." Will inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You effectively showed me what would be worse than death in this situation."

Hannibal radiated satisfaction, even if only his lips curved into a small sphinx like smile. "And what would it be?"

A beat of silence. "A waste of potential."

Hannibal nodded. "We have reached the same conclusion." In the silence of the kitchen, the sentence grew heavier, as if it meant something that Will still had to understand. 

Hannibal broke the moment, pointing towards his tools. "May I?"

Will snorted. "As if you'd wait for my permission." Hannibal looked at him interrogatively, so Will vaguely waved his hand towards the counter. "Yeah, sure." 

Hannibal rounded the counter, starting on a piece of meat. Will was mesmerized by the knife. It moved so quickly it was a mere flickering of silver. 

"Your reservations towards San Junipero were what allowed you to keep your previous ethic. If San Junipero is only a pale reproduction of our world, death still exists."

"But now I know it isn't like that." Will rested his chin on his arms, trying not to stare at the muscles on Hannibal's arms. "I'm wondering if the law is equipped to deal with this situation. It seems a bit hypocritical to punish murder so harshly if the victims are still living here."

Hannibal did not pause his movements as he answered. "Deciding the murderers’ treatment depending on the survival of their victim may be dangerous. Passing is based on circumstances such as the availability of a medical station, the velocity of the rescue team, the existence of previous injuries which may or may not facilitate the passing. All of those are factors outside of the killer's control."

Will frowned. "The Ripper managed to make every single one of his victims pass. Beverly said..."

The room crystallized in a single moment of clarity. Will saw that Hannibal was speaking, but he could not hear him above the screaming in his mind. Breathless, he said, "Beverly. He killed Beverly." Reality and sound came back with too much intensity. The room started to spin. Hannibal covered the hazardous path to Will's side in three quick steps and offered his arm against the spinning motion. Will looked up at him. "He killed her."

Will realized he was shaking and gripped the counter, trying to stop. Gently, Hannibal detached his hands and threw Will's arms around his shoulder. Will was distantly aware of his movements, of being raised with ease and moved somewhere else, but he could not make sense of it. Hannibal was warm against him, then there was the sensation of laying on something soft. "Breathe with me, Will."

Will did just that. He muttered, "I'm in San Junipero, and can't they mute panic attacks?"

Hannibal did not answer with an explanation, as Will expected. He massaged Will's back in gentle, slow circles, humming low. It was calming. Slowly, the blue dot in front of Will’s eyes solidified into the blue floor of Hannibal’s living room. They were sitting side by side on a sofa. As Will relaxed into the touch, Hannibal's started to card his fingers through his curls, until Will unclenched his fists, which were gripping Hannibal's shirt. 

He repeated, in a low tone of voice. "He killer her." Quietly, he added, "And yet I can't seem to be angry at him."

Hannibal did not react, and did not stop touching him. For a foolish moment, Will was embarrassed by the wrinkles he had left in Hannibal's shirt, then he remembered that Hannibal was still his assigned psychiatrist and that he had more pressing problems. 

He blinked, alarmed. "You should report me."

Hannibal's answer was self-assured. It was the type of answer that made you want to believe in it. "Reporting you for your metaphysical opinions is against any discrimination acts."

“It's still relevant when my job is to catch murderers.”

Hannibal did not answer, still playing with Will's curls, until Will sighed and let go. He flinched in surprise when Hannibal caressed his cheek, then leaned into the touch. Hannibal's palm was as soft as he remembered. 

Hannibal adjusted few locks behind Will's ear. "I wanted to ask you on a more pleasant occasion, but would you join me in another walk across San Junipero, on Wednesdays evening?"

"Liar. You were waiting for me to have my defenses down.” Will straightened, turning to look at Hannibal and finding himself closer than he had expected. It was not unpleasant. "Well, you played your cards well. Yes, just try not to push me too much."

Hannibal smiled, showing his small crooked teeth. "While I can't promise you I won't, I'll be there to offer my reassurance."

Will closed his eyes, sighing. "Why do I even keep seeing you."

Hannibal's voice was a low rumble. "I have a theory, but I'd rather you find your own answer."

The problem was that Will knew it. Hannibal did not flinch, no matter what dark thoughts Will threw at him. Being accepted was intoxicating. 

* * *

"Mr. Tier. Please come in." 

Hannibal opened the door of his office and Randall passed through it quickly, scanning the place like a wary animal. It was good that he still trusted Hannibal enough to come in.

"Doctor Lecter. Why did you want to see me?"

As Hannibal had hoped, Randall went immediately for the window, looking for other possible threats. He gave his back to Hannibal. 

Hannibal hit him on his head with the metallic cover of a book. Randall went down without a sound. 

"Because I need to help dear Will see some clarity."


	5. Chapter 4

The phone rang, waking Will up in the middle of the night. 

"What's up?" He said, still half asleep. He glanced at the screen and recognized Hannibal’s number. "I mean, hi. What's happening?"

"Good morning, Will. I'm sorry for waking you up like that."

Will glanced at the screen again. Yes, technically morning. 

"Liar." Hannibal sounded perfectly awake, which was so unfair. 

Hannibal continued as if he had not been interrupted. "There has been another Ripper murder." Suddenly, Will was much more awake. "He seems to have killed the man responsible for Jill’s passing.” 

“I'm not on that case until my probation is over.” It took Will a moment to remember who was Jill, but when he did, he understood why Hannibal was calling him. 

“They're doing an exception because…”

Will interrupted, thinking aloud. “Because I'm the only connection between Jill and the Ripper.” He blinked into the darkness. That was too much of a coincidence. "The Ripper is sending me a message." 

Hannibal's tone was concerned. "Do you require an escort?"

Will was about to automatically say yes, but then he closed his mouth and thought again. The worst that could happen to him was that he would be killed in the real world by the Ripper. The worst that would happen to the Ripper was to be trapped in Quagmire forever. 

"No, I'm not sure. Let me think about it when I'm awake."

Hannibal did not call him out on his lie, but Will suspected that it was only because it was really, really early and he felt charitable towards Will.

* * *

In spite of the early call, it took until the late afternoon for Will to be allowed his visit. Quagmire was already open, and a few clients were laughing and chatting, waiting before the real show started. With the mirrors and the smoke, it was impossible to understand how many people had already arrived, or even how large the place was. It felt as if it was going on into every direction forever. 

Stepping inside, Hannibal at his heels, Will kept his body language in check. The killers’ proximity gave confidence to his steps, quickened his body's response to danger, but that was all. He refused to latch onto the killers’ despair or to get lost in the atmosphere.

That did not mean he liked the place. 

He walked quickly towards the place where he knew Randall was, dodging the groups of people and turning around the barely visible cages. Randall was chained to the far end of the building. The police had found overwhelming proof of his crimes, and Will was there just to confirm his profile and to try to find the elusive connection with the Ripper. While Will was glad that Randall was not able to kill anymore, he could not help but being disturbed at seeing him unable to do anything but snarl. Apparently, his pathology was too interesting to let him slip into a quiet death. 

"Randall," he greeted, curt and to the point. 

He was answered with a growl. 

He sighed. That would probably not go anywhere. He looked at the man, who was pulling on his cuffs, showing his teeth, trying to bite them. Will did not need to let the pendulum swing to imagine how Randall, in the mechanical suit they had found in his house, had let his animal instincts loose, disemboweling his victims. 

And now he was trapped in his human body and in that nightmarish zoo forever. 

“It's him,” Will said, turning on his heels and walking towards the exit. He suffocated his fear of not getting away from the building. He had seen it in daylight and he knew where the door was. 

There was a moment of delay before Hannibal followed him. “That was quick.” 

Will's answer was a bit more aggressive than it was necessary, “Why, do you disagree?” Telling himself that Hannibal was not responsible for that awful place, he took a breath, smelling something sweet in the smoke, and added. “I didn't even need to be here, the evidence was enough. This was another test.”

They exited, and the wind cleaned them from the clinging smell. Hannibal fell into step with Will. “You mentioned the Ripper this morning.” 

“Yes.” Will bit his lip, anchoring himself to the present moment. “I don't understand what the Ripper is trying to tell me, but it's a symbol, not something Randall knows.” He pointed briskly to the building. “But all I can see is Quagmire's unfairness.” 

Hannibal inclined his head. “Maybe that's the message.” 

A little bit of his calm rubbed on Will. “Uhm.” He looked up at the almost completely dark sky. “Then message received. Nothing new. Now what?”

Hannibal touched his shoulder. “Since you asked, I was wondering if you'd feel like spending the evening with me, since we're already here.” 

Will blinked, pushing Quagmire and Randall out of his mind. “I was talking about the Ripper, as you know, but god forbid you pass an opportunity to push me off center.” 

Hannibal waited in silence, looking at him with a light smile. 

Will rubbed his face, feeling himself blush. “Well, it's actually not a bad idea, but my time here will end in a few minutes.” 

“You're welcome to use my guest access, like the other time." He lowered his tone. “I'd be happy to know your time with me is unlimited.”

Will heard the faint ping punctuating a change in his connection. He snorted, the remaining tension dissipating. “I didn't actually say yes.” 

Hannibal's eyes twinkled. “Of course you can disconnect any time.”

"Guess you’ll need to persuade me not to." The first stars were appearing. Will took a deep breath, feeling the seaside air filling his lungs. He smiled and looked towards the city, watching the buildings switch their lights on one after the other. “Where are we going?”

His breath hitched when he turned back. For the first time, Hannibal had foregone his suit to dress completely in leather. Will swallowed, looking down at the tight -  _ tight _ \- black pants, which ended low enough to show a light patch of belly. Will's gaze skirted up, to the leather jacket and to Hannibal’s pleased smirk, only to go back to the shirt as he realized that it was mesh.  _ Mesh _ . 

He looked down in a haste, swallowing again to find his voice before saying, “I suppose that answers my question.”

He blinked again, not managing to look up and feeling Hannibal’s satisfaction in waves. He groaned, because he was going to stare the entire evening. At least two could play that game. 

He thought quickly, closing his eyes. A crop tank and ripped jeans. Boots. On a whim, he added eyeliner. He double guessed himself for a moment, because maybe it was not enough, but then Hannibal stopped breathing. Feeling genuinely more confident, he opened his eyes to find Hannibal staring. It was exhilarating to push back, after Hannibal's games. 

He winked, “Let's go.” 

Instead of walking towards the city, Hannibal took his hand and kissed it, still staring at Will with bare admiration. Experimentally, Will laced their fingers together and leaned closer. 

“This sort of pushing is way too unrefined for you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal raised fractionally an eyebrow. “With you?” He started to walk towards the city, keeping Will close. “It's the dance which requires the most precision. Even before meeting you, I was performing with the utmost care to have you were I wanted.” 

Hannibal lead them into a club, and Will was temporarily confused by the sheer amount of emotions and sounds and fragments of conversation. Hannibal lead him to the middle of the dancefloor with a grounding hand on Will's bare hip, and his attention snapped back. “I consider dancing with you tonight a privilege.”

The lights flashed around them, twisting in time with the music and twinkling over the dead and the living. Will put his hands over Hannibal’s shoulders, feeling soft leather and solid muscle under his fingers. “We danced the first time.” 

Hannibal's hand caressed his back, pulling them closer, and his fingers traced Will's spine. “Only because the circumstances forced you.” 

Will arched into the touch, and his shirt rode even higher, baring his belly. “You wanted to, that time. Why did you even bother?” 

They started to sway, way slower than the song which was actually playing. Will relaxed into it. For all his pushing, Hannibal’s presence was comfortable. 

“I have to admit, at the beginning I was simply curious. In this eternal world, where boredom threatens us at every step, the one who feels keenly has infinite potential.”

Will laughed. “So I was your cure against boredom. Romantic.”

The song changed. Hannibal pressed closer. “Then I was captivated by the struggle inside your mind and I wanted to see how I could influence it.”

Will blinked, going over their interactions since the start. Moving his hands around Hannibal's neck, carefully avoiding touching the mesh not to rip it, he said, “My choices were my own.” 

Hannibal took the occasion to move even closer, until they were dancing cheek to cheek and Will felt the lapels of Hannibal’s jacket around his own flanks. Hannibal’s breath tickled his ear. “Of course. I would have never expected such luck.”

It was the lingering darkness in Hannibal’s tone, something barely hidden by the utter devotion in his voice. Something fell into place inside Will. 

Will leaned back to look at Hannibal. “What did you mean, ‘before meeting me’”? How were you performing?”

There was a lull in the tune, a moment where everything was quiet. Will supposed that was where the fear, or the outrage, or the coldness was supposed to be. There was nothing, just clarity of thoughts. Hannibal smiled, showing his teeth. “You know very well what I meant.”

“You are the Ripper.” 

Hannibal’s smile widened, and Will felt that he was proud of him, and for one moment let himself be swept under that emotion, because it was much easier. His hands, instead of pushing Hannibal away, pulled him closed, and they swayed, perfectly in synch. 

Then anger took over and Will gripped Hannibal’s wrists hard enough to bruise. He hissed, “You condemned Randall.”

Hannibal's only reaction was to incline his head. “Interesting how this is your first accusation.” 

Will wanted to punch him, but first there was another, more important, thing he needed to do. He saved the anger for later and dragged Hannibal out of the bar. 

* * *

By now, the smoke inside Quagmire was so thick that anything more than few steps away disappeared. The chattering was louder, the only indication that the place was packed, and there were continuous flashes of light and the clanking of chains. 

Will stepped inside, dragging Hannibal along. He moved forward, through people in various states of undress, ignored the moans and the pleas and walked to where Randall was. He was so angry that ignoring everything was terribly easy. Will wondered if he was making the right choice, but that was only a passing doubt, quickly discarded. Hannibal had done a thorough job in shaping his opinions. He tugged at Hannibal’s wrists, hard and unexpected, and had the unexplained pleasure of making him almost stumble in his efforts to keep his pace. Served him well.

Behind the other sensations, there was the low tug of the killers’ personalities. Will embraced it, discarding everything else. He let his surety guide his steps and fan the violence he felt bubbling within. 

Hannibal must have been giddy, unveiling Will's untasty thoughts one after the other.

Randall was there, as before, chained to a corner of the room. His jaw was bruised and he was sneering at a barely distinguishable group who chattered loudly just out of reach. They ignored him, too busy kissing, indulging their baser impulses. What was denied to Randall. 

Hannibal stopped behind him, pulling at Will’s arm to catch his attention. “Will."

Will turned. Hannibal’s eyes were curious, and not in the least worried. The worst part was that in his leather and goddamn mesh, he looked perfectly posed and at ease in the place. He was about to make a suggestion, as usual, as always. Will snarled, "Shut up. You have said enough," and felt a surge of power when Hannibal closed his lips. 

A man at his left moaned, pulling at his bonds while a couple raised his shirt and sucked at his nipples. Will knew exactly what he wanted to do, but before he had to check one last time. He breathed deeply, turned to face Randall and let the pendulum swing.   
  
_ All was anger. All was wrong. His teeth were too short to bite into the shapes in front of him. His arms were not powerful enough to tear apart the preys laughing in front of him. Wrong wrong wrong, he wanted to pull and pull and bite and pull and... _   
  
Will came back to himself. His mind was crystal clear.

As Hannibal had said, sometimes violence and death were a kindness.

He looked at Hannibal, who was waiting for his decision. Coldly, he said, "Take out your knife, I know you have one." 

Hannibal did not quite smile, but his expression radiated satisfaction. Will wanted to wipe it off his face, because that was his decision, not Hannibal’s, no matter how much he had pushed. But that was a problem for later.

Hannibal took a folding knife out of the pockets of his jacket, his arms involuntarily opening the lapels when he offered him to Will. For a moment, Will stared at the see-through fabric underneath, but then he collected himself. Hannibal remained close to him as he advanced towards Randall, probably already knowing what was about to happen. Randall growled when they got too close. Will clicked his tongue and Randall looked up, weighing him like a wild animal. Will advanced, holding eye contact, shushing him when Randall growled again. Slowly, he put a hand on his face.

"Poor thing." Will modulated his voice carefully. To deal with wild beasts, he needed to radiate absolute confidence. "I'll free you soon." 

Randall looked at him with wariness, but he was not hostile anymore. 

Will turned to Hannibal. "Interrupt his nerves." Hannibal tried to remain impassive, but the black of his eyes widened, and adoration bled through. "I know you can do it."

Hannibal inclined his head in acknowledgement and pressed his fingers to the back of Randall's neck, feeling for his spine. Randall tried to shake him off, but Will calmed him with a hand petting his hair. “It’ll be just a moment, don’t worry.”

Hannibal reached for Will's hand, who in spite of everything shivered at the touch, and directed the knife with their joined fingers. Randall whimpered, but held still.

Will's grip on the knife tightened in delight as Hannibal found the passage between the vertebrae and pushed in with decision. Randall went slack, limp in his bonds, finally free. 

Will held his chin, meeting his eyes. “Soon it’ll be alright.” He patted his head once more, and went to work. 

* * *

He worked quickly but with focus, translating the image in his head into reality one piece at the time. In San Junipero he could summon the objects he had seen in Randall's room from his memory. Teeth in Randall’s mouth. Claws in his disjointed arms. Steel in his spine. 

Randall looked down with widened eyes, watching him work, the beast lured out by the transformation of his body. 

Nobody spared a glance for them, hidden by the smoke and by a reality where everything was allowed. 

Finally, he was ready. 

“He has reached full potential.” Will stepped back, memorizing the shape of the man who had become a beast. “This is my design.”

He turned to Hannibal, who had his hands clasped behind his back, as if he had to restrain himself physically as not to touch. The jacket had remained open, showing the black of the mesh over the white of his skin. 

Will did not give him the time to comment, because he lunged. They stumbled in the smoke, bumping against a couple who ignored them and slamming against one of the cages in the center of the room. Will felt blindly for Hannibal wrists and pinned them above his head. 

Hannibal looked at him from under his fringe, with naked want and without the barest hint of fear. It was still infuriating, but also terribly  _ Hannibal _ .  __

“You bastard,” Will hissed, almost fond, before kissing him. 

Hannibal opened his mouth for him, arching against the metal net behind his back to draw Will closer. Will let himself enjoy his surrender for a moment, kissing him deeply, then pulled back and nipped at his bottom lip until he tasted blood. Hannibal did not flinch, but twisted in his grip, unable to stay still. 

“You were magnificent, Will. Imagine what we could do together.” 

He was slightly out of breath, and widened his legs, letting Will tower over him. Will knew this time his grip on Hannibal’s wrists would surely leave bruises. 

“I don’t have your appetite.” Will pushed Hannibal’s hands against the cage again, holding them there for few seconds, then letting the grip go, daring Hannibal to move with a look. Hannibal gripped a metallic bar and hold on. Quieter than he had intended, and taking Hannibal’s knife out of his pocket again, Will asked, “How did you kill Beverly?”

With his arms up, Hannibal’s jacket and shirt were riding up. Will touched his navel with the tip of his knife, grinning when Hannibal shivered. 

“I injected air into her veins.” Hannibal’s eyes were black. 

Will returned his attention to the knife. He moved the tip up, feeling the goosebumps under the blade, until it was under the mesh. There was something deeply satisfying in being given that power without a fight, but it was not enough. 

“Turn on your pain switch,” he said, before pulling the knife towards himself and ripping the shirt. 

Hannibal’s arms twitched, but under Will’s gaze he did not move. He nodded his acquiescence, half smiling. “Is this when I discover how it feels to be killed in San Junipero?”

Will returned the smile, then touched Hannibal’s skin with his free hand, roughly snaking his fingers up between the mesh and the chest hair. “Is it what you’re expecting?”

Hannibal licked his lips, which were still red from before, “I’d never expect to be able to predict you.”

Will leaned forward to brush his lips against Hannibal's skin, while he pressed his thigh between Hannibal’s legs. He was hard. Will reached blindly for the sleeves of the jacket and slashed through them with the knife, careful not to nick the skin. Hannibal was now completely still. Will smiled against his lips, giving him an almost affectionate peck. “Then you’ll have to just wait and see.”

He touched Hannibal’s wrists with his hand, pressing his fingers against the raised lines of Hannibal’s tendons. Without warning he cut the skin with the knife, opening a single bloody line from wrist to elbow. 

Hannibal shivered and writhed against Will, his erection not fading. Will felt himself flushing with arousal.

“You played with her veins, like I’m playing with yours now,” he whispered to his ear, to see Hannibal’s eyes widen. “I’ll do the other arm now.”

Hannibal stood still, but his grip on the metal was deadly. Slowly, tenderly, feeling every one of Hannibal’s involuntary twitches, Will pressed the blade under the skin and cut again. 

Hannibal said, voice coming out faint, “Will.”

Hannibal craned his head forward as much as his arms allowed, crashing his mouth against Will. Will denied him, stepping back and leaving him hanging against the net. Blood was flowing from Hannibal's forearms and soaking what remained of his jacket and shirt. 

Hannibal's body jerked forward, then back as he remembered his instructions. Will wanted to kiss him breathless, to cover him in cuts and bruises, until Hannibal was  _ his _ , but before he needed to ask something else. 

“And how did you kill Randall?”

Hannibal licked his lips. “I snapped his neck.”

Will met his eyes, letting his desire wash over him and fuel his own. “Quick and elegant.”

He moved forward, pressing his knife against Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal tilted his head up, welcoming the blade, and that broke what remained of Will’s control. He let the knife fall to the ground and moved to suck hard on Hannibal’s upper lip until he tasted blood there as well. 

Hannibal groaned, making another aborted movement, trying to reach for Will, and Will realized that his anger had evaporated. He moved his hands upwards on Hannibal’s back, feeling his spine, the struggling muscles of his shoulders, and Hannibal’s groaned. It had to hurt, and Will smiled. 

He pinched Hannibal’s upper arm over the open wound to feel him jerk, then reached for his's hands and lowered them to his flanks, not without tenderness. With a relieved groan, Hannibal pushed himself closer to Will, lowering his head on Will’s shoulder and pushing his hips forward in short, aborted trusts. 

“Will…” It sounded like a prayer, and Will was hit with the reality of what was happening, of Hannibal, always composed, always pushing, finally lowering his last defense. It felt right. 

He moved in time with Hannibal, digging his fingers into his shoulders trying not to get lost, feeling every shift and moan and gasp in his skin, until they both tipped over the edge and remained there, holding onto one another. 


	6. Epilogue

Mornings in San Junipero were a quiet affair. Sat beside Hannibal on the desert beach, Will watched the sun rising over the sea, holding Hannibal’s hand. A solitary seagull flew above them and disappeared on the horizon. 

Hannibal, of course, broke the peace. “After your question, I checked San Junipero's programmation. The sea is an endless iteration.”

He was only wearing his pants. He had discarded his ruined shirt and jacket on the beach, and was wearing his marks and the dried blood with pride. 

Will could not help but to smile. “We may disappear in there.” 

Hannibal turned towards him, an identical smile on his face. He was so smitten, and instead of finding it hideous Will loved it. “Would you like such a fate?”

Will scratched his nose with their joined hands, recognizing that Hannibal was offering to follow him forever. “You'd get bored.” Which meant that he cared about staying with Hannibal more than about enjoying himself. Hannibal squeezed his fingers, and Will hurried to change the subject before they got even sickeningly sweeter than they already were. “You should make me fail my probation.” 

Hannibal rested his head on Will’s shoulder, pressing a small kiss on his neck. “Why?”

It was so genuinely guileless that Will laughed. “I dismembered one of the people I was supposed to profile and banged my supervisor. “

“By now, Randall will be back to his normal body.” 

Yes, and if Hannibal did not reject him as an agent, Will would change Randall again and again. He searched for another excuse. “They'll give me your cases to study.”

Hannibal’s eyes twinkled. “Yes. Aren't you curious?”

Will pointedly ignored the question, but passed an arm under Hannibal’s shoulders and drew him closer, feeling the warm scratched skin under his fingers. Of course he was curious. “Don't you fear your victims will recognize you, when we appear in front of them together?”

Hannibal moved his free hand over Will’s fingers, and now they were holding both their hands, and it was absolutely ridiculous. Will adjusted his position to hold Hannibal better. 

“I was careful. And you’ll be there to divert any suspicion.”

Hannibal was assuming Will would stay by his side, which was… well, fair. Probably it was time to drop the pretense. Will breathed deeply, accepting that not only he would cover for Hannibal, that he would transform Randall over and over, but also that he was in love with the Ripper. “After chasing your shadows for years, I came you to see you as an entity. Something to inevitably deal with, like a tempest.”

Another seagull cried. Hannibal’s smile grew, Will could feel it against the skin of his neck. “Something eternal.”

More nervous than he should possibly be, Will asked, “Are you?”

Hannibal turned to look him in the eyes. In the early morning the red was beautiful, clear and deep. Hannibal was staring at him as if nothing else existed. “As eternal as your beautiful mind.”

Will leaned forward for a kiss, which was slow and lingering. When he drew back, his mind was as calm as the morning. 

“Guess we both found what we were looking for.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :3


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